General Purpose Woman
by Bar Code
Summary: Sam/Jack Est. Sam has issues which Jack quells very deliberately.


Title: General Purpose Woman  
Author: Bar Code  
Email: bar_code_babe@yahoo.com.au  
Category: Romance  
Rating: PG 13   
Pairing: Sam/Jack Established   
Status: Complete - however not beta read  
Archive: Please ask for permission.   
Spoiler Warning: J.Quinn mentioned in name - very, very minimal   
spoilers  
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, rather MGM-Gekko-Double   
Secret's, this fic is written purely for entertainment value, and no   
monetary funds will be garnered through it either.   
Notes: Has not been beta read, any glaring mistakes are my mistake,   
and mine alone until I can find someone to take the fall for me.   
Constructive Feedback is more than welcome, flames will be doused.   
  
*****  
  
He had an unholy attraction to her feet, and it quite frankly   
disturbed her. He knew exactly what went on in her shoes, the wet and   
muddy planets they had to slog through, the dry and desolate waste   
lands cracking at the leather reaching through the boundary to draw   
moisture from her skin.   
  
Yet still, he sat comfortably propped up against the arm of the couch   
massaging gentle circles into the aching flesh. She did the same. It   
wasn't some sexist slant her mind was going on, people expect men to   
have thick soled, callused and beaten feet. They didn't look twice   
when they took off their shoe to change into another, or try one on   
in the store.  
  
It had happened to her the last time she went shopping with Cassie.   
Apparently the latest sneaker was to be purchased and worn to school,   
that or the dire fabric of social class organization would come   
tumbling around the sixteen year olds head. She certainly could   
understand the teen's perspective, shoes grew into bigger problems as   
they grew older.   
  
Small things grow into larger things. Making the pocket money or   
allowance stretch to incorporate the latest fashions changed into a   
car, textbooks during college, the weekly food bill. She wasn't about   
to try to dissuade the girl from her worries. She was acting like a   
normal teenager, she was alive to act like a normal teenager. That's   
all that really mattered now, paying exorbitant prices for a pair of   
shoes that would possibly go out of season faster than fuzzy dice was   
a small price to pay.  
  
The sales attendant had fluttered over to their side, quickly eyeing   
up the possible sales situation, she chose well and focused on the   
long haired girl. So Sam Carter had sat on the chair watching as the   
shoes were fitted, tried on and displayed for her approval. If only   
it had gone that far, determined to outfit the blonde major with more   
than combat GPs and steel caped motor cycle boots, wheedling and   
cajoling had led to the stripping of her shoes down the poor feet.   
  
She had wanted to keep on the thick comfortable socks as a protective   
layer against the questioning eyes and speculative looks she would   
get. There was no such luck, the heavy fabric not suitable for sizing   
the sneakers correctly. Or so said the woman, who before had been   
well mannered and attentive, had grown to be fussy and demanding.  
  
So her attitude had changed, it was okay for Cassie to flaunt around   
her perfectly manicured toes to all and sundry. But she had only just   
returned from a fairly distasteful planet with hazardous chemicals   
eating away at the team's shoes thanks to Jona's perfectly good   
grasp of being a klutz when it came to finding food. With an resigned sigh she pulled the black   
material off, finally giving everyone what they wanted to see. They   
were normal feet, really, just hard worn. Not matter how many times   
she soaked them, pampered them and rubbed healing cream into the   
epidermis her feet showed her career.  
  
"Air Force." That was all she had to say, an supportive tisking and   
motherly glance over the abused (word for toes) a thinner pair of   
socks had been handed over and she had all too quickly slipped them   
back over, covering her shame. Mentally chiding yourself doesn't help   
when battling years of socially inbuilt behaviour reflexes. Sure she   
defended her country, her planet by while wearing the boots, but they   
left their mark on her.   
  
Taking Cassie in arm with the shopping bags hung at her elbow, long   
strides had ensured they were far away from the penetrating glare of   
the shoes sales woman. The girl hadn't a clue what brought about the   
change in mood, but road it out with the foresight to know that her   
right too moody brooding sessions also extended on those out of the   
lower years of life.  
  
So now, she was sitting there sighing and relaxing into the soft   
cushions of her couch while the man she loved applied pressure and   
caressed every inch of the abandoned body items. Her leg was raised   
slightly, cracking open an eye she expected him to be slipping out   
from underneath them to sojourn to the bathroom or something. Rather,   
her eyes flew open as a warm mouth parted and between the two lips   
her big toe slipped.  
  
"Jack!" His eyelid slid upwards in such a residual mannerism of   
Teal'c that she for a moment thought Ma'chello device had been up to   
no good again. Pulling back to place smaller bites and soothing   
kisses on her under sole, Jack just ignored her squirms and muttered   
protests. "What's wrong Carter?" Her brown frowned slightly, the   
lines formed from the action many times when she pondered over a   
equation or a life saving pull of the P90's trigger.   
  
"Jack, I've got soldier's feet, I mean really." He wasn't satisfied   
with her expulsion of concerns and redoubled his efforts on the other   
foot. Pulling herself up right and back solidly into the couch arm   
opposite his, her face remained impassive, but eyes aching with pain.  
  
"It would go that being a soldier same you would have these so   
called 'soldier's feet'. What's the matter?" He left his long legs   
stretched out still on either side of her crossed thighs. Nudging her   
with his toe he tried to elicit more information. "It's just, well,   
something silly I suppose. The patch of skin under here," Sam's hands   
had reached out for his feet to demonstrate tactically. "it's so   
thick and callused, here is always chaffed, and here... " A shorted   
and nonsense nail ran up the sensitive underside of Jack O'Neill's   
foot, "well it's as bad as the heel, all thick and callused from my   
boots." Trying not to dismiss her out of hand, the male side of him   
couldn't figure out the problem.  
  
She wore boots every day, and when she went home, if riding her bike,   
another kindred pair were pulled on, laced up and buckled over. "I   
love your feet Sam, they're yours, they tell me so much about you."   
She flinched with that and dropped the large foot she held in her   
grasp. What was the problem? Looking her over he couldn't help but   
noticed she was examining her nails as well.   
  
Then it finally clicked, one thing Carter often chose to avoid and   
ignore was her femineity. It wasn't generally by choice he was sure,   
the Air Force held great regard for women officers, but those already   
in the ranks, those joining, they didn't always see eye to eye with   
the recruiters. Sam had to for many reasons strip herself down of the   
obvious trappings of the female sex and adopt an air of 'one of the   
boys'.  
  
Something so long a habit, something necessary to her very notion of   
self worth was caught up with a career in a military discipline which   
favoured male attributes. Though she may not outwardly appear to be   
concerned with whether her nails were manicured, buffed and painted   
with precision, something inside her must nag away. The recent tirade   
over her shoes was only symptomatic of a larger problem.   
  
"Carter, Sam - I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Men, we of   
course like women to be soft, feminine, yielding. "A pointed death   
stare was shot across at him, and he wisely chose to go on trying to   
somewhat retrieve the conversation for the 6 foot deep hole it was   
digging for his body, "We aren't allowed to act feminine, you get to   
wear a skirt when you're off duty, or pants, it all depends on what   
you want to wear."  
  
He sighed forlornly, "I was worried when Charlie was growing up, I   
loved that he wanted to play baseball, was into all the 'boy' things.   
There are pressures when you're growing up, I was worried he would be   
told by society that he couldn't cry when he needed to. That he was   
always to be the strong one, the 'man of the house'."   
  
Rubbing a frustrated palm into his brow, Jack tried to explain himself   
better. "Girls are told to be lady like, but I'm sure you know,   
growing up that a phase of tom boy hood is acceptable. Almost   
expected at some point in most of the female population." He knew he   
had caught her attention, her bright eyes always challenging,   
laughing or sharing sorrow with him. They now puzzled him out, but it   
showed she was listening.  
  
"I can never wear a skirt Sam, you get to choose. Sure in the   
military we're not meant to be emotional, I suppose that hasn't   
helped matters any for you. I know women are emotional, that's part   
of the appeal, you feel things and understand them on levels we can't   
even fathom." He crawled up on all fours to advance on her   
position. "I care for you Sam, because you are all these things. You   
fight with amazing skill and strength, you build a reverse engineer   
reactor from advance alien technology, you make decisions, figure out   
numbers and letters all mixed in together."  
  
He stoped on his approach being very deliberate to stare her   
down, "You held a little girl tight to your chest when she was meant   
to go critical. Cassie exposed you early on Sam for what you really   
are. The most amazing human being I've ever encountered in the   
universe." Grinning he watched the slight upturning at the end of her   
lips, he was winning, getting through to her. "  
  
Soldier, lover, woman, biker, scientist," She watched him openly now,   
playing up he grimaced as he said the last word and coped one of the   
instigators of the nights conversation in the side. "Fighter... you   
are my dictionary Sam. You are everything and you do everything."  
  
Sam withdrew her legs from underneath his supported body clasp them   
tightly to her chest. He didn't stop though, rather crawled up onto   
all fours and moved forward nose brushing against her own. Deep and   
huskily he breathed out words that finally saturated her brain and   
gave some relief. "Sam, I don't care if your feet are a little   
beaten, they're you." Soft lips reached her own and she succumbed to   
the seeking attempts to engage her fully. Pulling her into his arms   
she found herself falling backwards as he awkwardly engineered their   
fall.  
  
Lying on his chest she was flattered as he went on, "You are every   
bit a woman Sam, and I lust for you in that capacity. I'm not fooled   
by boots, or your practical hair cut." She shifted more comfortably   
and gazed at him. "See, what you don't know is that it seeps out, the   
way your hips move, the belting of your pants so comfortably around a   
curve of a waist. You're slender arms and limbs, the clinging black   
undershirts which do more for me than any skirt you could wear while   
on down time." Snorting she thumped him gently.  
  
"You can't be serious." He was deadly serious though, his eyes didn't   
twinkle with the mischievous light they took on when about to pull an   
earth idiosyncrasies past Teal'c, or when a sarcastic quip had Jonas   
blustering about the weather conditions in Utah. "I'm very serious   
Sam, I see you every day as a woman, whether you think I do or not.   
It's not something that can be forgotten so easily. Certain things   
emphasis it, a skirt, these..." The hand holding her close to him   
skirted down her side and a long finger delicately reached down and   
traced the outside of her breast.  
  
A sharp intake meant the breath caught in her throat, it was more   
intense than their first time together. This was his careful and   
deliberate destruction of her demons and the slow seduction in the   
process. "Feet that tell me you serve our country, the planet or the   
known universe fails to detract from the fact you're a very beautiful   
woman. One that I find incredibly attractive."   
  
Flipping herself over with well placed arms and legs, the woman in question comfortably   
straddled him, her thighs holding him still and buttocks resting on a   
sensitive piece of anatomy. "Thank you." She didn't have to say   
anymore than that, explain herself, he had done it for her.  
  
Her hands dropped down to the hem of her shirt, crossing her arms,   
the item of clothing was drawn up and over tussling her hair in the   
process. His hands reached up, instead of stroking her newly exposed   
skin, they took on a fair more intimate course of action. Finger tips   
traced her lips, her nose, fluttering with deliberate tenderness   
across her eyelids and then he pushed back the jutting fringe.   
  
"Why don't we take this upstairs?" She nodded and smiled crawling off   
him to offer a hand. She found more than that when with a spurt of   
energy he was standing trying to insert himself into her skin.   
Enjoying the full body contact, Sam was tempted to continue what had   
started on the couch in the middle of the lounge room standing   
upright. Jack broke off though, fastening lips to her collar bone and   
shoulder, a rasping whisper ordering them to the bed before he fell   
down. 


End file.
